“What’s going on?” Blaed whispered.

Since the answer seemed obvious, Jared didn’t bother to reply.

The Sapphire-Jeweled Warlord Prince urged his horse forward, meeting the two women halfway between his men and the wagon. He dismounted slowly, his eyes never leaving the Gray Lady. His lean, hard body moved with a warrior’s grace as he cautiously approached, one hand resting easily on the hilt of the knife attached to his belt.

Too far away to hear, and not daring to probe in case it produced a violent reaction, Jared watched the negotiations. After one long, searching look, the Warlord Prince ignored Polli and seemed to listen courteously to the Gray Lady’s offer.

Hell’s fire, what if the man wanted to inspect Thera and Cathryn before accepting the woman offered?

A long few minutes later, the Warlord Prince raised his left hand. Two of his men immediately came forward and dismounted. One of them took Polli’s bag and tied it to his saddle. The other led Polli to the Warlord Prince’s horse and helped her mount.

Jared narrowed his eyes. All the stories he’d heard about rogues said they lived hard, desperate lives, so emotionally scarred by Queens and courts that they wouldn’t yield to the distaff gender for any reason. Any female unfortunate enough to fall into their hands could only expect to be viciously used for the most basic and base needs.

So why did the Warlord who had helped Polli mount handle her so gently? Why was this Warlord Prince still listening courteously to the Gray Lady?

They talked for several more minutes. At one point, the Warlord Prince seemed aggravated enough that it took considerable effort to keep his temper leashed. At another point, he shook his head, his regret obvious. That’s when the Gray Lady’s shoulders sagged as if a great weight had settled on them.

When there didn’t seem to be anything more to say, the Warlord Prince took her hand and raised it to his lips.

As he watched, Jared felt the emotional ground shift beneath him again. That gesture wasn’t a meaningless salute as it would have been in a court. A rogue Warlord Prince who wore Jewels as dark as the Sapphire wouldn’t bother with empty gestures. And it wasn’t mockery.

Why would a rogue deliberately show his respect for a Queen?

Jared turned that thought over and over while the Gray Lady slowly limped back to the wagon. Her face looked pinched and pained, and she seemed more frail than she had a few minutes ago.

Brock and Randolf stepped aside as she reached them. If ordered to, they would have assisted her, but that subtle defiance—forcing a Queen to order every small thing she wanted from a slave—was the only safe way for a man to show disrespect. He couldn’t be faulted because he did exactly what he’d been told to do. He just didn’t do anything beyond that.